


Here for You

by goingtothetardis



Series: The Deckerstar Collection [3]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Conversation, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s01e09 A Priest Walks Into A Bar, F/M, Friendship, post-episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 09:56:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12454998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goingtothetardis/pseuds/goingtothetardis
Summary: Lucifer comes to a realization about Chloe after she arrives at his flat.





	Here for You

**Author's Note:**

> Something just struck a chord with me while watching "A Priest Walks into a Bar," and I really wanted to write about the concept of friendships from Lucifer's POV. This episode almost sends me off the deep end; I'm not quite sure why it resonates with me so much. I think the scene at the end with him at the piano is just so POWERFUL to me, the way she's so unexpected and the way he LOOKS AT HER IN THAT WAY. It slays me every time. It's so clear it moves him deeply, and I love love love moments like these that so monumentally shift the way things are in a relationship. Maybe I'm making more of it than it is, but whatever. I love this episode so much.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this little thing.
> 
> Thanks to Crazygirlne for the read through.

After washing all remnants of Father Frank’s blood from his body and discarding his blood stained clothing, Lucifer dons slacks and a dress shirt. He’s less put together than usual, but the urge to sit at his piano is far greater than his desire to make sure he’s dressed impeccably for any beautiful person who might walk in from the elevator. 

Pouring himself a glass of bourbon, he leans against the bar for a moment before wandering over to the piano. He sighs in relief once he sits down and runs his fingers along the familiar keys. Without giving much conscious thought to what he wants to play, the first melody Father Frank played earlier that evening flits through his mind, and his fingers comply readily. 

_Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door._

Oh, the irony in those words. And now Father Frank is there doing just that, waiting at the doors to meet God. The _faith_ of the other man, the simple trust and certainty in what he believed, despite having had everything he loved ripped from his life– he’ll never understand it. 

Nor will he understand how he’d been so _wrong_ about the priest, how in his efforts to expose the other man as a hypocrite, he’d found some kind of unexpected common ground, a meaningful connection of sorts with a man who, for all intents and purposes, had lived a life according to a set of principles he himself has rejected with every ounce of conscious power he has.

His fingers move over the keys, and he allows his mind to wander. Anger simmers in his veins at the unjust murder of Father Frank, at the utter _hypocrisy_ of faith in _God_ , at the fact that _none of it matters_. Loss and grief swirl dangerously among the heady concoction of emotions, and it’s all rather… disconcerting. It’s easier to lose himself in music than to dwell on the emotional upheaval of the day, and for a moment, he does just that. 

A movement to his right startles him, and he finds Chloe’s face filling the space. Her presence is such a surprise that his fingers falter as he pulls back with a soft gasp. 

As she greets him, his eyes flick over her appearance. Without the protective armor of one of her many jackets, she feels more open, as though the protective barriers she puts up to protect herself from the world are down. She’s _softer_ , somehow, her hair down in waves and shirt untucked. The image is quite alluring. 

Chloe settles down next to him, and he scoots over to accommodate her presence. 

“Bit late for a new case, isn’t it?” He fills the silence with words, trying to cover up any hint of vulnerability. 

She sighs, something like a huff of laughter. “I’m not here for a case,” she says, holding his gaze. “I’m here for you.”

His heart hammers in his chest, and he responds the only way he knows how: with casual innuendo. “Oh, really?” As he drifts his gaze over her body, she isn’t swayed, and he realizes his response had felt rather… forced. For the first time, covering up a _real_ moment with such behavior feels wrong, somehow. 

“Yeah,” she answers, sure and steady. “I thought you could use a friend.” 

_A friend._

Unable to tear his gaze from hers, Lucifer finds himself rather… upended by her comment. 

_“You sound… lonely,”_ Linda’s voice echoes in his mind. _“But do you truly consider any of those people your friend? A peer you respect. Someone you like to spend time with. Someone with whom you share a meaningful connection. What about Detective Decker? Do you consider her your friend?”_

Chloe’s expression is so earnest and genuine that it takes him a moment to collect his wits. With a quick sigh, he looks down, then returns his gaze to hers. Clearing his throat and blinking away an unfamiliar tingling sensation in his eyes, Lucifer turns away once more and softly smacks the top of the piano. 

“Do you play?”

It’s easier to deflect from the meaning of this moment and turn instead to his piano. This he knows. This he can understand.

* * *

After they exhaust all renditions of _Heart and Soul_ , Lucifer reverts back to a simple version of _Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door,_ every now and then nudging Chloe as she sips from his drink. 

_His_ drink, the thief. Normally he’d call her out on it with suggestive commentary and his charming wit, but he finds he’s rather subdued, as if his devilish spark has been temporarily extinguished. So he lets it slide and simply gets up to retrieve a new drink several minutes later.

“Oh, sorry,” Chloe says as she joins him at the bar with his glass. 

He shrugs. “It’s not a problem, Detective. I’m simply… thankful you decided to grace me with your company tonight.”

“Yeah,” she says softly, staring into the remaining amber liquid. 

Clearing his throat, he says, “Detective, might I suggest moving this somewhere a little more comfortable?”

Her eyes shoot to his, forehead scrunching in suspicion. 

Lucifer smirks, having known exactly how she’d react. “I’m simply suggesting continuing our evening with a little less standing. On the couch, perhaps?”

Chloe nods, her face relaxing in relief, and soon they’re situated on the soft leather. 

“So why did you really come here this evening?” Lucifer asks, quite unwilling to believe her earlier explanation. 

Leveling him with a glare, Chloe sighs. “Despite what you said about not caring for Father Frank, it’s obvious you did, and–” Holding up a hand, she stops him before he can interject. “And this job, it’s not always easy. People we care about and try to protect– occasionally bad things happen to them, and it’s hard to…” She trails off and meets his gaze. “I know what it’s like to experience that loss and go home at the end of a day with no one to talk to.”

Lucifer looks to his drink and swirls it around a few times, thinking about her words. 

“And you’re my friend, Lucifer, despite how hard that is for me to admit it, and friends are there for each other when life is difficult.”

At her words, he looks up and catches her smile, the teasing glint in her eyes. 

“Why Detective, I’m honored,” he says. “It’s funny you should call me your friend, today of all days.”

Chloe shits on the couch, resting her arm on the back and pulling one leg up so she can more easily face him. “Oh, why’s that?”

“I had a visit with Doctor Linda this morning, and she suggested I might be lonely. I know, it’s hard to believe, isn’t it?” He keeps his tone light, trying to brush off the depth of what he’s saying. Chloe just rolls her eyes as though she sees right through him.

Perhaps she does. 

“And she suggested I… find a friend. I’ve never had a real friend before, Detective, and I didn’t think I had one until I thought of the doctor’s definition of a friend and how you fit that.” 

“And what’s her definition?” Chloe asks, gaze serious as she studies him.

Lucifer takes a sip of his drink, focusing on the way it burns his throat on the way down, soothing and comfortable. “Oh, I don’t know. Someone I respect and trust, someone I enjoy spending time with…” he pauses here, unsure if he wants to repeat the last point.

“And?” Chloe presses for more.

“And someone with whom I have a meaningful connection,” he finishes with a sigh. 

“So I fit that definition?” she asks.

“Yes. No,” he begins and hurries to elaborate when a flash of hurt crosses Chloe’s face, “it’s that you’re _more_ , in a way.”

“More.”

“Yes, more. Not a lover, although you know how much I’d like that,” he says with a smirk, just to get a rise out of her, “But you’re more than the qualifiers Doctor Linda described.”

Chloe hums and takes a sip of her drink. “What about Father Frank?”

“What?” He hopes she doesn’t delve deep on this subject, as the distraction from his earlier thoughts had been most welcome.

“Father Frank. I know you didn’t respect his beliefs, but I saw the two of you playing piano together. You had fun. It was _meaningful_ to you, Lucifer. If you hadn’t cared for the man, what happened tonight wouldn’t have pulled such a reaction from you after he got shot. I don’t think I would have come here tonight if I thought you didn’t care.”

She’s right, he acknowledges, despite how very difficult it is to admit, especially to himself. In the end, Father Frank had indeed become a friend.

“I suppose you’re right, Detective. But dear old Dad decided to complicate matters. Doesn’t matter if you’re a sinner or a saint, he’ll do what he wants for his own agenda.”

“Mmm,” Chloe confirms without words, and when she doesn’t press him for more, he sighs in relief. 

Lucifer wonders what Chloe does with his errant statements about God, his father. He’s never hold her anything but the truth about who he really is, but while he knows she trusts him, what does she really think about the things he says?

It’s really not a subject he feels inclined to delve into this evening, and with Chloe at his side, the restless, angry thoughts calm into something just short of contentment. 

“I’m glad you came, Detective,” he says, catching her gaze. “Thank you.”

The corner of her mouth quirks up into a half-smile. “Yeah, me too,” she replies. 

A comfortable silence settles between them until Chloe mentions something about an unrelated case, and they fall into familiar banter with each other, occasionally allowing the conversation to drift from strictly work related matters into stories about their lives and experiences. 

It’s not how he thought the evening would end, having expected to drink copious amounts of alcohol to dull the tumultuous wave of emotions that had resulted from the case, and it’s better than any other scenario he could have imagined. 

Chloe, his friend and something more, at his side to anchor him to the present. 

It’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at goingtothetardis.tumblr.com!


End file.
